Invisible Bars

I'm so disappointed with everything. Me. My life. Oh look, it's starting to make me sound like I'm emo. I'll apologize in advance.

I fell asleep and woke up feeling a deep sense of depression that rose out of the pit of my stomach like an monster rearing its ugly head and screaming bloody murder. I hate this feeling. it's like a roller coaster, and you don't have enough momentum to get over that next hill, so you get stuck at the bottom in between two of them. Unmoving.
I've no reason to cry, but it feels like I should have one. Nightmares? Grades not all As? People dying? Those reasons just don't fit. Yet here I am, depressed and contemplating. I can contemplate and not hit the subject of death, mind you. I know the two go hand and hand together sometimes, but just to make things clear... they're not paired this time.

I pondered this weekend. Meditated. Contemplated. Both relaxing and depressing, really. My mind freely wanders, but always goes back to depressing thoughts. If someone were to ask me if I was happy, how would I respond? I'd like to believe I'd say yes, but deep down I know that isn't what would come out.

I can believe all I want about fate and destiny and that things happen for a reason. But what if they have no reason? What if that fork fell off the table accidentally, for no purpose other than to fall off the table and make me wonder? What if I wore the green jacket instead of the grey jacket not because I was meant to but because I just randomly felt like it? What if... what if I have no purpose other than ... other than to be that random feeling... because someone felt like putting me here... what if that's my only purpose. . .?

I do so much volunteer work. So much fundraising. Bike rides, walks, dances, runs, hospitality meals, Special Olympics... they make me feel better about who I am. I'm helping. I want to help. But that feeling goes away soon. Why does this depression persist? Is it ... stronger? Am I just filled with more negative than positive?

I'm always telling myself about life being this huge ocean - we're all swimming in it. But I just float there. I'm not really sinking, but I'm not really swimming either. Stuck. Still. Not moving. Just floating. Why don't I move? What am I so indifferent? Why don't I really care?
If I really cared, wouldn't I be spending all my waking hours studying my ass off in some gods forsaken library or stuffy stale study room somewhere? Wouldn't I be exercising more, swimming, running, and going to the gym rather than spending hours in bed or in front of the computer on facebook? Wouldn't I be spending more time writing my novel so I can someday publish it instead of fooling around RPing with over four different RP groups?
If I really cared, wouldn't I be ... happier?

What happened to that smile I can see clearly in my pictures of when I was younger? Why did it disappear?

I wish I could ask for someone to talk to. I never could ask for help. I'm here stuck in this cage with its invisible bars. I just... I just wish there was someone who could bring the keys and let me ... out.